


They'd Find Us In a Week

by toowincesttolive



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Cancer, Everybody Dies, Heaven, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Non-Explicit Sex, Sick Sam, Soulmates, Suicidal Dean, Suicide, Wincest - Freeform, shared heaven
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-07
Updated: 2016-04-01
Packaged: 2018-03-09 23:06:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,122
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3267710
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/toowincesttolive/pseuds/toowincesttolive
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Out of everything that had tried to kill the Winchesters, neither of them would have guessed cancer would do the trick.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is loosely based on the song In a Week by Hozier. I would highly recommend the song, especially if you listen to it before, during, or after reading this. Thanks!

Every fiber of Dean’s being fought this, but he couldn’t hurt his Sammy anymore. He couldn’t bear to watch Sam suffer like this, either.

Cancer. Specifically, Lung Cancer. It was almost funny because, of all the other things Sam had done, he had never been a smoker. Who could possibly imagine that cancer would be the thing that would take Sam Winchester out? Not any vengeful spirit. Not any demon. Or angel. Not even Lucifer himself. It was just Cancer. Just some normal, stupid, human disease.

Of course, Sam had refused chemo or any kind of treatment. It wouldn’t help. They didn’t even have any real kind of insurance. Sam was sick of all of the scamming and lies.

Dean still used some random guy’s insurance to at least get Sam to the doctor when he needed to, pain pills when it got worse, and later, an oxygen tank.

The last time they checked, the doctors said he had a month. One month. Over 30 years of the worst things the universe had to offer and it had come to one month.

Dean was angry at everything. Angry and scared and reckless because he did not want to lose Sam. He could not lose Sam. And Sam was so desperate to just see Dean smile or laugh or do anything but scream or cry.

Dean could barely contain himself. He took a long drive a few times a week now. Sam wasn’t sure exactly where to, but he had the general idea. They had friends. One of whom owned a junk yard. Dean took a crowbar and he didn’t stop until he physically could not do it anymore. Until the muscles in his arms almost couldn’t even hold the crowbar anymore. Then, he would drive back home as if he hadn’t been gone for five hours.

Sam was more worried about Dean then he was himself. He tried to make Dean promise to just let him die and not to take his own life after Sam. It took a lot, but he finally got Dean to agree to the first part at least. Getting Dean to promise not to bring him back or pull another big stunt was huge. If only Sam could make Dean promise to keep himself alive.

Somewhere, in the back of his mind, Sam knew he couldn't ask Dean to do that. He shouldn't have asked Dean to let him die. That was already asking too much. He couldn't expect Dean to live his perfect apple pie life with Sam dead. The last time he tried that, Dean was a borderline alcoholic, and the monsters came for him and his family anyways.

So, Sam let Dean lie to him. He let Dean say he would go on living. He pretended he didn't see the bottles of extra strength sleeping pills Dean hid in the cabinet.

But, Sam still broke a little bit at everything he found. At all of the stress and guilt and pain he was putting on Dean. He wished that Dean could at least not have to watch and care for him as he lay sick and dying.

So when Sam woke up from his now daily nap to Dean sitting by his bedside, as usual, he reached out his hand for Dean. Dean took it, of course, and Sam pulled him weakly out of the chair.

“Come here, you’re warm. Lay with me, Dean,” Sam said. It came out softer than he would have liked, but Dean smiled briefly and plopped next to him on the bed. Sam wrapped himself around Dean until they were a tangle of limbs. Dean pressed his face against Sam’s collarbone, breathing in his scent.

Sam didn’t like dying. He didn’t like having to catch his breath every time he moved. But, Sam didn’t mind having Dean exclusively to himself like this. He slept best when Dean was in the bed pressed against him.

Dean still tried to blame himself. If he hadn’t let Cas die. If he had just found another faith healer for Sam anyways. If he had done something, maybe Sam wouldn’t die. Maybe Dean just blamed himself because he wanted there to be a reason Sam was dying. So he wouldn’t feel so helpless.

As he got worse, they both realized he was having a bunch of lasts. He had his last run two months after the diagnosis. He came home and coughed up blood. Dean drove him to the hospital, driving 20 miles over the speed limit and running so many stop signs, it was a wonder they didn’t get hit. The doctor had told Sam that was it. No more morning workouts.

Their last hunt came two weeks later. Dean was hot on the tail of the vampire when he turned around and Sam was on the floor. Dean drove him home and tucked him into bed and called in a favor with an old hunting buddy to pick up where they left off.

The last good night was about two weeks before the doctor’s scheduled end for Sam. He got to where he could only sleep for two or so hours before the pain and the pressure woke him up. Dean slept even less, always determined to keep an eye out for Sam, in case he stopped breathing. Dean didn’t say that out loud, of course. But he thought it a few times. Sam knew he was watching, but he let Dean make his feeble jokes and excuses anyways.

The day before Sam’s last day, Sam knew it was coming. He knew he was almost out of time. He decided if he was going to die, he didn’t want to do it lying in bed like every other sappy tearjerker. If he couldn’t choose when or how, he could choose where. So he told Dean.

“Dean, there’s something I want to do,” Sam said.

“Sammy, I don’t think there’s anything you can do,” Dean replied, looking over at Sam fondly, but there were tears in his eyes.

“I won’t have to do anything. You can drive. You could probably carry me if you want to. Didn’t think I’d ever be smaller than you again,” Sam laughed once, but it sounded off somehow, forced.

“Yeah, I’ll carry you, Samantha,” Dean joked back, even though there was no life left in his voice.

 ~

So, here they were. Dean wasn’t entirely sure what their exact location was. What was important was the field they were lying in on the side of a mountain, facing a mountain across from them. Sam’s eyes glowed as he traced the landscape. It was breathtaking.

But, Dean had hardly noticed it. All he could see was Sam. He was more gorgeous to Dean than any landscape. Even with his bulky oxygen tank. Dean just watched Sam’s eyes light up and his slightly labored breathing.

After a time, Sam glanced over at Dean. He feebly reached his hand out for Dean’s.

Dean grasped his hand firmly and brought it up to his lips as he looked up at Sam. Like Sam was the only other person in the world worth looking at. To Dean, he was.

A tear slipped from Sam’s eye, but Dean reached up and caught it before it could reach his cheek.

 

_We lay here for years or for hours_

_So long we become the flowers_

 

At some point later, neither of them knew how long it had been, Sam’s breaths grew more labored. He struggled and begged for each next breath until he absolutely couldn’t do it anymore. He looked over at Dean and mouthed “thank you” with the last breath he had.

Dean’s throat grew tight. He gripped Sam’s hand, desperately trying to keep him there next to him. Sam tried to squeeze his hand back as best he could. Dean watched Sam let out the last breath and close his eyes.

Dean didn’t let go of Sam’s hand. Even after Sam’s hand had gone slack. Even as it slowly grew colder.

Tears ran from both of his eyes. He still looked at Sam’s soft expression. He almost looked like he was sleeping. He looked at peace. Dean was thankful for that.

Dean was happy Sam was finally at peace. But, he knew he could never be at peace again without Sam alive and next to him.

He took out the small pile of sleeping pills from his pocket. He would have brought the whole bottle, but he didn’t want Sam to know his plan.

They had lied to each other even as Sam had been on his deathbed. Dean lied about his plan. Sam lied about already knowing.

Dean swallowed each pill one at a time, bringing each one to his lips for good luck and promising Sam he was on his way with every swallow.

When Dean ran out of pills, he turned back to look at Sam’s peaceful, lifeless corpse, trying to imagine they were back to the way they were a year ago, falling asleep next to each other in the same bed. Back when Dean could count Sam’s breaths like sheep to lull him to sleep.

He couldn’t count Sam’s breaths now as he waited for the deep, pill-induced sleep he would never wake up from.

He wondered how long it would be until someone found their bodies. As he began to feel his eyelids droop, a song he heard once ran through his mind. It was some of Sam’s crap that he had made Dean listen to once or twice on a lost bet. He couldn’t remember the name, just a few lyrics…

 

_They’d find us in a week_

_When the buzzards get loud_

_After the insects have made their claim_

_After the foxes have known our taste_

_After the raven has had its say_

_I’d be home with you…_

 

Dean didn’t fight it as he was pushed into unconsciousness and death. He knew Sam would already be waiting for him on the other side.


	2. I'll Be Home With You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There is a long road ahead of him. A literal road, not some phrase describing his chances of saving the world. It’s just a road. Not new, faded in parts, cracks every so often, but not old. There are no potholes or bumps. It’s an average road, the ideal road for Dean Winchester.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by the events of 11x17 Red Meat, I wrote a little follow-up to They'd Find Us In A Week.

There is a long road ahead of him. A literal road, not some phrase describing his chances of saving the world. It’s just a road. Not new, faded in parts, cracks every so often, but not old. There are no potholes or bumps. It’s an average road, the ideal road for Dean Winchester.

The impala is there, idling in the middle of the road, waiting. Something in the back of his mind sends off warning signals.  _ What are you doing on the side of the road? Why would you leave Baby idling right there?  _ But Dean ignores them because he’s pretty sure he knows where he is, and why his Baby is waiting for him.

Dean saunters over to his car, in no rush despite walking across an open road. There are no cars coming. The edges of his vision fuzz ever so slightly. Dean’s been here before. He can remember the circumstances if he tries, but he does not really care to now. It is not important. Someone is waiting for him.

The mountain in the distance behind Baby looks familiar. It’s grassy, covered in flowers. Dean can see the dots of animals walking across it, a hawk circling overhead. There is a strange sense of déjà vu, but Dean still pays it no mind. He grasps the car door and finds it unlocked, but he knew it would be. The windows are tinted more than he remembers them being, but he isn’t worried. The paint shines black, and a thought crosses his mind.  _ It’s never been this clean. _

Dean smiles as he opens the door, slides into the driver’s seat, where he belongs. Never felt more at home than behind the wheel of this car.

Dean reaches for the radio to turn up the Led Zeppelin song and remembers someone was waiting for him. He turns his head to the right and meets the dazzling hazel eyes he has been in love with all his life. 

Sam smiles. He knows where they are, and for a moment his contentment is interrupted by the thought of how Dean got here. He can see that Dean has not chosen to remember yet. Sam just continues to smile at his brother.

Dean smiles, too, as if this is the first time he has seen his brother. He remembers holding him as an infant with the same smile, the same colorful eyes staring back at him. He reaches forward and runs a hand through Sam’s hair. It is silk, healthy and lustrous again.

Sam finally breaks the silence. “Do you know where we are?” It’s a test, but there is no wrong answer.

Dean surprises him anyways. “Yes,” he smiles. “I got here as soon as I could.”

Sam face takes on the ghost of an expression that used to be comfortable on his face. His eyebrows pull in towards each other. His eyes shine with less content and a flash of joking annoyance in its place. “Then, what took you so long?”

Dean wraps his hand around the back of his brother’s neck, pulls him a little closer. Sam is more than willing, following his big brother’s silent command until their lips meet in the middle. Sam opens his mouth to Dean, lets heat build in the action. He feels young again. He feels healthy.

Dean pulls back and runs his tongue over his lips, tasting Sam there again. He would have Sam right here in the car, but they have as much time as they want, more time than they’ve ever had before.

Dean faces forward again in his car, looks over at his brother through long eyelashes. “Where to?” He asks.

“Let’s just see where this road takes us,” Sam replies. “We don’t need a destination here.”

Dean fingers a few buttons on the radio, finds the Led Zeppelin song he had been looking for, turns back to the road ahead. He puts the car in drive, rolls forward, presses the gas.

Baby is young again, too. She shoots forward under Dean’s guiding lead, needs no encouragement to go faster. She just does.

Dean races against nothing but his mind on this open road. He slides around curves, over hills. They hardly feel the turns, and Dean knows there is no way to crash on this road.

He hums along to the song on the radio, not noticing what song, knowing every lyric anyways. His right hand edges towards his brother. He finds Sam’s hand, wraps his fingers delicately around his wrist, feels the strong pulse, doesn’t let go.

Sam looks sideways at him, the corners of his mouth twitch upwards. He moves his hand from Dean’s grasp and traces along Dean’s arms, finding smooth, unbroken skin. No scars. Normally, Sam would take that as a sign that this isn’t his Dean. But he knows this is his Dean. He can feel it.

Shared memories pass them as they drive. Sam sees that first night when Dean came for him. Sees himself, wary of Dean after not seeing him for so long. He wants to tell himself to trust his brother, to let everything fall back into place.

The next memory passes on Dean’s side. He sees himself in Cold Oak, opening the door and seeing his brother standing upright, confused, but alive. The wave of euphoria overtakes him as he watches the memory. Relief. Love. He looks back at the Sam in the passenger seat. There is a silent discussion between the two of them. Sam’s  _ thank you _ glints in his eyes. Dean’s returning look echoes Sam’s emotions.  _ I’m sorry _ wordlessly makes itself known to Sam. He smiles.  _ I love you  _ bounces between them.

They move through Dean’s return from hell, Sam’s disbelieving awe when he sees his brother who defies even death. Both aware that they can feel the other’s emotions, and their emotions being felt by the other.

Dean sees himself through Sam’s eyes in that graveyard in Kansas. He can feel Sam’s love, though he already knew how Sam stopped the apocalypse, but this is so much deeper, more intimate.

Sam can feel Dean’s relief when they see the church, the fear that dissolved when Sam gave his life to Dean, not to hell.

At some point the memories stop, but neither of them notices. They continue their journey on the road.

The road leads up to a house. It is not the bunker, just a house. One they stayed in when Sam was sixteen, the first time Sam experienced all of Dean’s body against him. The first time Dean could kiss every inch of his brother like he wanted since he was twelve and people at his school started dating and having first kisses.

Dean put the car in park, turned it off, but left the keys in the ignition when he went inside. Sam followed him into the house. It was already familiar to them, and they settled on the couch together. Dean gingerly lifted the hem of Sam’s shirt, revealing his torso, now without scars or pain. 

He was still somewhat nervous he would see tubes and labored breathing, but all he found was a healthy landscape he had memorized with his lips before. He kissed Sam again, pushed him back on the couch until they were both lying together, lips and legs and chests and noses pressed together again. 

There was no urgency this time. No need for them to rush anything. Maybe for the first time in their lives, they made slow, passionate love to each other. More breathing and whispered names than screaming and moaning. More gentle touches than stinging slaps. Not that the other wasn’t good. God knows it held them over for the better part of ten years. This was different, smooth. They just  _ loved _ each other, nothing else. No underlying fear of losing one another. No anger for past mistakes. No adrenaline pushing them to go harder, faster. There was only love.

They woke up in the morning so thoroughly wrapped in each other, it was hard to tell where one ended and the other began.

There might have been toothbrushes in the bathroom. There might have been waffles in the kitchen. Neither found themselves in need of either. Not here. They could have them if they wanted them, but there was no need.

They redressed. Dean buttoned his brothers jeans and slid his belt into place. Sam smoothed Dean’s flannel on his shoulders.

They got back into the car. The ignition rumbled under them. The house had moved to the side. In its place was another long stretch of road. Dean put the car in drive and moved forward, a sigh of contentment present on both his and Sam’s lips.  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading!! Please Please Please leave kudos or comment if you liked it!!

**Author's Note:**

> Hi again! I'm sorry for so much sad stuff. I would promise some more less-sad stuff, but that's a bit too hard of a promise to make. Please leave kudos, comment, or subscribe if you liked it! Thanks!


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